


The Edge Of

by red_crate



Series: Starker Sundays [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Coming Untouched, Deepthroating, Dom/sub Undertones, Face-Fucking, First Time, Gentle Dom Tony Stark, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Orgasm Control, Praise Kink, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 07:24:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14765168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_crate/pseuds/red_crate
Summary: Tony is already starting to take a step back, and that snaps Peter back into action. He clutches at the hem of Tony's jacket tightly. “I'm fine. I'm fine. Please don’t stop,” he begs quietly. Screwing up all the courage he has, Peter steps into Tony's space, meeting his wide eyes. “It's so okay.”Tony looks up at the ceiling with a sigh. His hands haven't left Peter's face, but Peter can feel him trying to close this door between them. One breath, then two, and Tony looks back at him. “It's really not.” He slides one hand down to curve around the side of Peter's neck. “But I want you too much, and if you...” He licks his lips, eyes dropping back to Peter's mouth. “If you say yes, then—”“Yes!” Peter lets go of the jacket and grips Tony's forearms. “Yes, I want....I want...”He doesn't know how to say everything. So he says, “I want you.”Tony makes a hurt sound in the back of his throat, but he's not leaving. He's nodding and that electricity between them seems to grow until Peter imagines a low level hum. “God damn me, but I want you too, kid.”





	The Edge Of

**Author's Note:**

> This was just supposed to be Peter being attractive in glasses, but it veered off. I hope you enjoy!  
> Title from "The Edge of Seventeen" by Stevie Nicks
> 
> Happy Starker Sunday! All my love to lavenderlotion who came up with that spectacular idea and cheerlead me in this fic!

Peter's attention is drawn away from the calculus homework he's been noodling with for the past twenty minutes. When the blurry photo of Tony in the back of his limo pops up on his phone screen, Peter snatches his it up and hits the talk button. 

“Hey! What's up?” He winces at his own eagerness, but it doesn't stop his heart from galloping in his chest. 

Tony chuckles quietly, intimately, on the other end of the call. “Hey, kid. I just got back. I wanted to check in, see how you're doing.”

A warmth curls inside Peter no matter how often Tony says this sort of thing. He likes the attention and concern. Having that from Tony Stark, his childhood hero and current mentor is mind boggling. Falling backwards onto his bed, he says, “I'm bored. Doing homework and actually wishing for a burglary or something to get me out of this math.” 

That pulls another amused huff from Tony. His breathing is just slightly raised. “You'll be patrolling later, right?” 

There's a knock at the apartment door that echoes on the other end of the line. Peter scrambles to his feet, heart rate doubled in anticipation. He stutters out, “Y-yeah. After May gets home. Hold on.” 

He glances down at himself. He's wearing the sweatpants he pulled on after his mid morning shower, but he didn't bother with a shirt or contact lenses. He thinks he looks kind of like a slob but determinedly doesn't grab a tee to slip on before jogging to the door. 

His cell phone is still in one hand when he answers  the knock, pulling the door open to reveal Tony standing there in a pair of distressed jeans, an old Led Zeppelin shirt with a beat up black jacket on top of that. Every time Peter sees Tony in anything other than his tailored suits or the Ironman armour, his mouth goes dry and his hands get a little clammy. He looks so relaxed and  _ normal _ , that Peter barely holds back a quiet gasp. 

“Bye,” Tony says into his phone, grinning at Peter as he thumbs off the connection without looking. Instead, his eyes drag over Peter from toe to crown for a long beat, then he's asking, “Mind if I come in?”

Peter pockets his phone, subtly wiping his palm off in the process as he takes a quick step backwards. “Yeah, of course! Come in.” He scrubs a hand nervously through his hair. There's an electric  _ something _ building that he can't quite place, but it makes Peter feel excited nonetheless. “How was Singapore?” 

Tony slips his own phone into a jacket pocket before approaching Peter with an intent look in his eyes. When they're barely a foot apart, he says distractedly, “Same as it was last time I was there.” 

When he plucks Peter's glasses off his nose, Peter startles, but Tony just holds them up so he can tilt them this way and that. “These are the new ones, huh?” He looks over the rim of his own tinted sunglasses. 

Peter is farsighted to a degree, enough that when he's studying or focusing on detailed work he will get a headache if he isn't wearing his prescription. Despite the enhancements his body had received since that spider bite that changed his life, 20/20 vision hadn't been part of the package deal. Yesterday, he'd picked up this year's set of frames and a new, slightly modified contact lens script. 

“I know, I told you they were kind of trendy.” Peter wrinkles his nose at himself for listening to Aunt May. She said the black frames made him look older,  _ cooler _ . They are hipster frames like all the other kids wear, clunky and “ironic.” 

Tony gently sets the glasses back on Peter's face. He's careful with the arms and makes sure they're hooked over Peter's ears properly. It's incredibly gentle. 

Peter feels his face heating up, growing warmer when Tony's gaze drops downward. The weight of his gaze is heavy on Peter's bare chest. 

“I like them.” Tony's hand hasn't strayed far from the side of Peter's face. He brushes his thumb under the left side of the frame, fingers barely touching his skin and hair. “You look good.” 

“Thanks.” He says the word too softly, but he can feel something like appreciation radiating from Tony. It's the same feeling he gets whenever Peter does something clever or maybe a little, stupidly dangerous but which manages to end up okay. It's stronger now though. Peter's mouth still feels like it's made of cotton, and he licks his lips in an attempt to unstick his tongue.

He doesn't know exactly what's going on here—or if he's just imagining it to begin with—but an apprehensive hope is bubbling up inside him. Trying to break the tension, he smiles lopsided, “Bring me back anything?” He means it as a joke, clearly. The audacity of asking something like that of someone like Tony is pretty ridiculous, but that's exactly why he asked. He rolls his eyes at himself, inviting Tony to chuckle and fall back into their usual routine. 

That's not what happens, however. 

Tony carefully pulls off his sunglasses and hooks them into the collar if his t-shirt. “Depends.” His gaze, heavy and almost desirous, leaves Peter's skin on fire from the attention. Tony's lips tip up, and he asks, “Were you a good boy?” 

Peter swallows. This is a joke too...probably? His heart is racing, and the faded scent of Tony's cologne fills his nose. He finds himself saying, “Yes, sir.” 

Tony's eyes close and he inhales sharply before looking back at Peter. “Kid, you absolutely  _ kill _ me.” His hand drops to the side of Peter's neck, warm and so very real. “Do you even know?” 

Peter should ask, “Do I know what?” They should talk about this thing that's been brewing between them, because if he were completely honest with himself, Peter  _ doesn't  _ know. Instead, he parts his lips and feels himself leaning closer into the gravity of Tony's unquestionable pull. Instead of saying anything, Peter holds his breath, frozen with indecision even when he knows what he wants, what might even be on offer. 

Tony comes to the rescue though. He's right there just like any other time Peter needs him. His hand comes up to cup Peter's cheeks so softly, and Tony tilts his head as if in question. 

When it happens, it's like it's all at once and yet as if the moment stretches infinitely. That press of mouth to mouth, the flutter of his eyelids, and the joint echo of both their hearts pounding. Peter takes in a shaky breath, lips parting to allow the brush of Tony's tongue inside. 

Want washes over Peter all at once. Every thought he's ever had about Tony—about Mr. Stark, and Ironman, and  _ Tony Stark _ —come rushing forward to overwhelm him.  _ This can't be real _ , he thinks to himself, even as he pushes forward, pushes closer. 

Tony pulls away, however, and swipes his thumbs over Peter's cheekbones soothingly. He looks concerned, and...that is the last thing Peter wants in this moment. “Hey,” he says, “is this okay?” 

Tony is already starting to take a step back, and that snaps Peter back into action. He clutches at the hem of Tony's jacket tightly. “I'm fine. I'm fine. Please don’t stop,” he begs quietly. Screwing up all the courage he has, Peter steps into Tony's space, meeting his wide eyes. “It's so okay.”

Tony looks up at the ceiling with a sigh. His hands haven't left Peter's face, but Peter can feel him trying to close this door between them. One breath, then two, and Tony looks back at him. “It's really not.” He slides one hand down to curve around the side of Peter's neck. “But I want you too much, and if you...” He licks his lips, eyes dropping back to Peter's mouth. “If you say yes, then—”

“Yes!” Peter lets go of the jacket and grips Tony's forearms. “Yes, I want....I want...” 

He doesn't know how to say everything. So he says, “I want you.”

Tony makes a hurt sound in the back of his throat, but he's not leaving. He's nodding and that electricity between them seems to grow until Peter imagines a low level hum. “God damn me, but I want you too, kid.”

Rolling onto the balls of his feet, Peter presses forward and kisses Tony with what is probably too much energy. His lip stings where he bit it, but he barely registers it. Arms wrapped around Tony’s neck, and he melts into the kiss when it is solidly returned without hesitancy. 

It’s incredible, nothing like the stolen kisses he had in middle school during a stupid game of Seven Minutes in Heaven. Even Peter’s scalp feels lit up as shivers run over his body. He opens up for Tony and moans without even realizing it. All he wants is more, more of this, mor of Tony.

The back of the couch digs into his back suddenly. They’ve been shuffling together, guided by Tony, until he is pressed up against the furniture. Instinctively, he widens his stance so one of Tony’s thighs slide between his and presses right up against his straining cock. 

Shuddering, Peter breaks the kiss on a whine. It’s happening too fast. He clamps his eyes shut tight and tries so hard to stop it, but he’s coming suddenly. Two kisses and a single glance of pressure to his dick and Peter is coming in his pants like the stupid teenager he is. 

“Oh God,” he cries out in a mixture of horror and ecstasy.

He doesn’t know how many moments pass, but eventually Peter realizes Tony is murmuring to him and smoothing his hair back in a soothing manner. “So hot, Peter. You did so good.” 

He shakes his head, embarrassed, but Tony persists, “Peter, look at me.”

He’s helpless to resist the firm tone. Peter blinks his eyes open and looks at Tony who looks a little wrecked himself. “Are you okay?” He holds Peter’s head between his palms and stares into his eyes. 

Nodding, Peter says, “Yeah. Just...I kinda, ya know.” He glances down, and his cheeks are hot with the humiliation. 

“Yeah, I know.” Tony smiles, but it isn’t to make fun of him. He drops one hand back to his side and slides his other down Peter’s chest until he’s got his hand cupped around the slight bulge in Peter’s pants. 

The squish of his come makes things slippery and slightly gross, but it doesn’t keep Peter’s hips from tipping up for more contact. His system is shocky. He hasn’t quite flagged yet, and Peter can feel himself getting hard again. 

“To be young again and have superpowers,” Tony quips to himself. The comment frames the insecurities Peter has about his lack of experience, but Tony doesn't seem bothered with any of that now that Peter has told him yes. In fact, Tony smiles a little sharply as he firms up his hold on Peter's cock. “How long until May comes back?”

Peter's brain feels a little muzzy, but he manages to do the math. He pushes his palms down to grip against the back of the couch because his knees feel like jelly. “An hour or so?” He sucks in a breath when Tony kisses him open mouthed, nipping at his bottom lip quickly before he kneels. 

“Good.” Tony didn't drop to his knees, and Peter heard the definite sound of joints popping as he went down, but he shows no sign of discomfort. 

To be honest, Peter isn't really able to focus on more than processing the fact that someone he was just making out has gone to their knees and still has a hand on his cock. “Oh my god,” he whispers to himself, eyes wide. He asks Tony, “What are you doing?”

Tony strokes Peter lightly through the material if his sweats, slowly, and says, “I want to suck you off.” Peter's pants are slick on the inside and wet all the way through now. Tony keeps pressing his thumb over the crown of Peter's cock. “If you're amiable, of course.”

“Please,” he nods his head emphatically. “I might come really fast again though.” He rolls his lips to hold back a groan when Tony's hands carefully pull down his pants and underwear. 

With a smirk, Tony says, “Hair trigger, huh?” He wraps his hand around Peter's cock again, this time skin to skin. “Work a little for it, for me.” 

Peter has to close his eyes at that, order himself not to come all over himself right then and there. All the daydreams and sex dreams he has had, and none of it has prepared him for the reality. He shudders and dig his fingers into the couch cushions. If he isn't careful, he'll accidentally rip them. 

Warm breath ghosts over his lower stomach where a faint trail of hair leads from his belly button to his pelvis. The mess from his orgasm is cold against his skin where it's drying, but Peter doesn't have time to concentrate on it when Tony is licking along the crease if his thigh, hand still carefully stroking his cock. After several long seconds of this torture, Peter croaks, “Please.” 

Tony leans back a little, lips shiny with saliva and spent come before he licks them clean. His eyes are dark when he comments, “You beg so prettily.” 

That makes Peter blush. He doesn't think there's anything particularly hot about how desperate he is to keep this going and not ruin it by coming too fast again. The pleased purr of Tony's voice shoots through him, sending him to a place where all he wants to do figure out how to make Tony sound like that again. 

“Please,  _ please _ ,” He repeats. 

Tony groans and presses his forehead to Peter's hip before he places a kiss on the cut of muscle there. Looking back up at him, he says, “Okay, kid. I got you.” He stills his hand at the base, using enough pressure to make Peter let out a silent gasp. “You ever have someone give you a blowjob?” When Peter shakes his head, he smiles slightly. “You can probably guess the protocol for it. Don't pull on someone's hair; don't buck into their mouth; don't come without warning them.” 

With each bullet point, Tony stokes his other hand up and down Peter's thigh. It's nice and just enough distracting that he can listen to what Tony says. He nods. 

Tony cups his hand around the back of his thigh, where leg meets ass, and says, “Those are the polite things to do, especially with someone you never slept with or discussed these thing with. There's a few other points, but we can talk about that later.” He curls his fingers tight along the crease of his ass, touching the delicate skin between his legs. “Right now, though, I don't want you to do any of that. I want you to go as hard as you want, tug on my hair, and come down my throat, whatever feels good to you.” 

Peter feels flayed, hot all over and overwhelmed with the matter-of-fact tone Tony is using. He opens his mouth to say  _ I don’t know what feels good _ , to agree anyway. 

Tony cuts him off before he can start. “But you have to stop yourself from coming for as long as possible. I want you to hold off for at least two minutes.” He loosens his grip on Peter's cock. “If you don't want to do that, I can take over for you and go slow.” 

“Um.” Peter breathes hard. Both options sound unbelievable. He knows, instinctively, if he asked Tony to dictate what happens that it would be good. The request he made though, leaving it up to Peter to set the pace and hold off his own orgasm is too enticing. Peter wants that; Tony’s expression as he laid out the options sealed their course. All he has to do is say it.

His mouth is dry.

“Answer me.” Tony raises an eyebrow. “Which one do you want?” He pauses, face softening a little. “We don't have to do either. We can do nothing, or,I can jerk you off.” 

“No!” Peter says hastily, unwilling to let Tony take away the thing he knows they both want. Still, the offer to slow things down makes him feel a little less like he's going to shake out of his skin. “No, I want,” he swallows, “the first thing.”

Tony slowly slides his fist up Peter's cock as he asks, “And you'll be good?” 

“Yes.” He forces himself to relax and gentles his grip on the back of the couch. This isn't so bad. He's already come once, and Tony said he would be able to choose the pace. He can do this; he’ll just go slow. “I won't come too fast,” he promises.

Tony makes a pleased sound. “Okay, kid. Let's see what you got.” He leans like he's going to put his mouth on Peter's cock, but then he pauses. “If you need to stop, just say so, alright? No shame. No anger.”

Peter wets his lips and whispers, “I will.” Then, “Thanks.” 

Tony doesn't bother responding. Instead, he lets go of Peter's cock altogether and takes his hips in both hands, licking up the length with a wet, wet tongue. Peter shudders. 

He thinks,  _ I don't know if I can do this _ , but then Tony's mouth is closing around the head of his cock in a hot, slick suction. He can feel the ridges of Tony's soft palate where his head runs against the skin. Tony undulates his tongue under the flare. Peter's brain short-circuits for a second. 

He pulls his hips back so his cock slips free and bounces against Tony's chin. Tony doesn't look mad though, not even particularly put out by it. Peter wants to apologize anyway. 

Tony is right there, though, gently tugging Peter's hands off the back of the couch. It's not the smartest move, Peter thinks, because he's likely to melt into a puddle any second now. Simply from the thought and visual of Tony wanting him like this. That electricity between them is pressing all around Peter, pressing him down and he doesn’t think he has the strength to stand against it. 

Tony pulls his hands down and sets them on his shoulders firmly. “Hold onto me,” he says. “Shoulders or head, whatever you want. You can pull my hair.” 

When Peter lifts a hand to touch Tony’s hair reverently, Tony asks, “You still hanging in there?”

Peter finds his voice. “I'm not...I don't know if I'm worth all this trouble.” It's on the tip of his tongue to add,  _ Mister Stark _ , even though he hasn't used the honorific in several months upon Tony's insistence. He sets his palm to Tony's scalp finding the soft hair, free of product, soothing. 

“ _ Kid _ .” And that, that word and the tone Tony uses, does all sort of twisty things to Peter. His heart is galloping in his chest. “You're worth all the trouble. And this? This is no trouble.” He reaches down between his legs and splays a hand over his crotch. He's clearly hard and straining at the front of his jeans. “I like this. That's why I suggested it, and why I asked.” 

Peter watches as Tony rubs himself while staring up at him. He tentatively tightens his fingers until he has a hold of Tony's hair. When Tony's eyelids drop halfway, he tugs slightly until the head of his cock presses against Tony's lips again. Immediately, he's let inside his so-warm, so-good mouth.

“Oh,” Peter gasps. His fingers twist in Tony's hair, and he pulls the man a little closer, sliding his cock in another half inch. 

A wave of desire rocks through Peter, and his cock kicks in Tony's mouth. He can feel it when Tony swallows around the precone dropping from the tip of Peter's cock. The harsh rasp of his breath in and out of his nose draws Peter's concentration suddenly. He could choke Tony like this.  _ Does he want that? _ He wonders as his hips rock in tiny increments. 

He can picture it the same way he's seen in porn: red face, wet eyelashes. Something cold washes through him, and he skitters away from the thought for now. 

Tony moans around him, quietly. When Peter opens his eyes—he hadn't even realized he'd closed them—he sees Tony has the front of his jeans open. He's stroking himself in time with the way he works Peter's cock. 

The sight is enough to drag a whimper out of Peter. Tony is thick, but not overly long. The width, circled by his fingers, stands out to Peter. He wonders if his jaw would ache if he tried to fit it in his mouth. What would he taste like? Would Tony take what he wanted, or would he let Peter set the pace with that too. 

His fingers have firmed up, curved against Tony's skull now. Peter thrusts forward a little harder, and Tony just opens up for him. When his cock his the back of Tony's throat, he gasps, “Sorry, oh God,” and jerks back until he isn't so deep. 

The clock on the wall tells him it has barely been a minute. He already feels like his self control is in tatters, but he just rocks back in over and over. He can do this. Tony asked this one thing of him, and believes in him. Peter can hang on just a little longer. 

“Tony,” he whines when he slips back in far enough to feel the tight clutch of his throat again. “Please,  please, please.” His mouth is completely unbridled, words and noises coming out as he simultaneously chases and staves off his release.

He's encouraged by the deep vibration of another groan from Tony. Peter watches helplessly as Tony jerks himself off faster. He can smell the faint scent of Tony's precime, musky and dark. It smells like sex, he realizes. 

This is sex.

Peter clamps his eyes shut, suddenly letting go of Tony's head to grab the back of the couch once more. He turns slightly to the side, getting just a little deeper until Tony swallows around him, and Peter freezes, staring down at him. Tony's face is pink and getting darker by the second as he continuously works his throat around Peter. Carefully, he pulls out. 

It's the most intense thing he's ever felt, so good it almost hurts. His mouth is hanging open, no sound coming out, and he can't remember how to breathe. 

It's luck or something like it that has him frantically looking at the clock. Less than fifteen seconds have passed since he last checked. Tony doesn’t stop, licking up his cock and mouthing at the tip before bobbing his head back down when Peter doesn't immediately thrust back in. 

He isn't going to last. 

Slapping a hand down, Peter grips the root of his cock and squeezes to ward off his the pending crash. His toes are curling on the hardwood floor. “I can't, I can't. Tony, please,” he grits the words out, shaking his head back and forth as he barely holds the tethers of his sanity in place. 

The hot suction suddenly disappears. “You're doing so good, baby. You  _ can _ do it.” Tony's voice is shredded, a garbled mess that makes Peter whimper even as his words buoy him. “Show me.” 

He slowly lets go of his cock when Tony kisses his knuckles. Peter can't find words right now, all he can think is  _ yes yes yes _ , but he nods.  He pushes back inside Tony's mouth until he hits his throat again, then pulls back. He can't handle that right now. So he keeps his thrusts shallow. 

Tony moans approvingly around him, and the slick sound of his hand on his own cock drives Peter right back to that brink. He threads his fingers through Tony's hair again and holds on tightly, unable to keep himself in check. 

He can hear each and every  _ tick tock  _ of the clock on the wall, taking an eternity for one second to pass. But Peter doesn't want this to end, just as much as he needs to come,  _ has to come _ . Peter fucks into Tony's mouth harder and snaps his hips. An ache sets up in his balls where they are drawn close to his body in anticipation. 

_ Tick tock. _

_ Tick tock _ .

“Tony,” he sobs the word out. The second hand has completed its rotation, and he's finally allowed to come. “I—,” he tries warning Tony, but the words choke in his chest as his orgasm rips through his body.

Head tipped back, Peter cries out loudly, moan changing into something deeper when Tony surges closer. His cock slides into that tight, tight heat, and Tony is swallowing around him. 

After that, it's like Peter's senses explode all at once, cranking too high before diving down to nil. It could be seconds or hours, but he's sitting on the floor when he comes back to himself. 

Tony's jeans are done back up, and the box of tissues from the corner table is next to him. He's holding Peter against his chest, shoulder to shoulder. It's nice. Peter turns his face into Tony's neck, but his glasses knock in the way annoyingly. He grunts.

“Hey, kid,” Tony speaks softly, and Peter can hear the smile in his voice. 

Everything is warm and floaty. His sweats have been pulled back up, and Peter runs a hand over the soft material. It feels better when Tony takes that hand in his and curls their fingers together. “That was awesome.” His head moves with the vibration of Tony's chuckle. 

“Yeah, it was.” He tightens his arm around Peter briefly in a hug. “ _ You _ were awesome. You did great.” 

Peter pushes his glasses up the slope of his nose and closes his eyes at the praise. All the tension he usually carries has melted out of his body. He could sit like this forever, held by Tony. 

When he doesn't say anything, Tony asks, “You doing okay?” He kisses Peter's hair and moves so he can see his face. Tony's voice still sounds weird, making Peter blush all over when he thinks about why that is. 

“Just...a lot to process?” He shrugs. When he squeezes Tony's fingers, Tony squeezes right back. “I'm okay though. I mean, that was  _ really, really  _ good. I'm not, like, upset or anything.” 

“If you need to freak out over any of it, you can talk to me. Even if it's later.” Tony’s eyes are intense, serious. “We are going to need to talk this over soon, anyway.”

A sudden thought occurs to Peter, and he sits up straight. “Is this...are we together now? Are we gonna do that again?” He scoots until his knees press against Tony's outstretched leg, too eager for a confirmation to succumb to his embarrassment. 

Tony doesn't answer for a beat, and Peter imagines the terribly nice let-down he's going to get. This was a fluke—some heat of the moment thing that Tony already regrets. Peter bites his bottom lip to hold back the way it wants to shake. 

“We're something. At least, I would like us to be.” Tony looks away as he runs a hand down Peter's arm. When he looks back, he says, “We've got some stuff to figure out.” 

“Yeah,” Peter sighs, feeling dejected anyway. It wasn't a resounding yes, but it wasn't a rejection either. 

Even though he's never had a relationship or even been with anyone before now, Peter is aware enough to see the obstacles that stand in their way. There's probably about a million reasons why, honestly. He doesn't want to think about it right now. 

“Are you hungry?” Tony asks when Peter doesn't say anything else. “I haven't eaten in ten hours.” He slowly gets to his feet, and Peter follows his lead. 

Crossing his arms over his chest, Peter says, “You definitely need to eat. We've got leftover alfredo?” 

Tony looks him up and down. “Sounds good. Why don't you go get changed while in heat it up? I can tell you the story about Happy and the tourist kids from the Netherlands while we eat.” 

Peter can't help the stupid grin on his face. Things are still kind of up in the air, but it'll be okay. Even if he doesn't know how, he knows they will figure something out. He can trust Tony.

He reaches back to grab at his neck. “Yeah, that sounds good.” He ducks his head. “I'll be right back.” 

A hand shoots out to stop him, and Tony feels him closer. “C’mere for a second.” 

Peter turns into the kiss like a flower finding the sun. It's soft and short, a perfect end to their interlude and a perfect promise of more. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna come hang out with me on Tumblr, I'm [here](http://the-redcrate.tumblr.com).
> 
> Comment if you enjoyed this, please!


End file.
